Actions and Words
by coolbyrne
Summary: Tommy and Frankie call out Jane on the way she treats Maura.


TITLE: Actions and Words

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: K

SUMMARY: Tommy and Frankie call out Jane on the way she treats Maura.

A/N: Sometimes I find a hard edge to the sarcasm in the way Jane treats Maura. Despite the fact that Maura has brought it to Jane's attention, we still see it more than we should, I think. I also like the idea that Jane is "Action" and Maura is "Words", and the two together fill in the cracks of each other's inadequacies. Thanks as always to RomanMachine (happycamper5 here) for the beta and for filling in my cracks.

...

"Did you know that the construction of the ball has remained almost the same since both the National League and the American League agreed to standardization in 1934? It was only the shortage of rubber during World War 2, when Japan seized Malaya and the Dutch East Indies, that created any real change in the ball. Major League Baseball was forced to create a core of granulated cork and an outer coating of balata, and its lack of elasticity dropped the batting average to .223."

She grinned at her companions, one of whom turned on the couch to look at her. "Maura," Jane said, "that was 80 years ago. That has nothing to do with why the Sox are blowing a 5-run lead in the bottom of the ninth!"

Maura tilted her head. "Why is it when Chris Berman brings up an arcane fact, you hang on his every word?"

"Because Chris Berman is a professional," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm a professional."

Jane took a pull of her beer. "I mean a professional commentator."

Tommy reached over to the coffee table for a handful of chips. "Don't listen to her, Maura. I think it's cool you know all that stuff."

"Me, too," Frankie tipped his bottle in Maura's direction.

"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "Both of you."

"Maura, sweetie," Angela called from the kitchen, "I can't find that lovely serving bowl we used at Thanksgiving."

"It's nacho cheese, Ma, not the Queen's gravy!" Jane shouted back.

"Hush," Maura said with a swat on Jane's knee. Standing, she made her way to the kitchen. "I'll help you, Angela."

When Maura was out of earshot, Tommy leaned back and popped a chip into his mouth. "You can be real mean sometimes, Jane."

She turned her head to look at her brother who was sitting on her right. "To Ma?"

"No," he corrected, "to Maura."

She took another sip of her beer, one eye on Tommy and one on the game. "What are you talking about?"

The three groaned at the 3rd walk of the inning before Tommy continued. "She just wants to feel like she's part of things. That's why she goes off on all her Google stuff. I mean, you think she knew shit about baseball before we started takin' over her TV on the weekends? She wants to impress us." He leaned into her shoulder. "She wants to impress you."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

His face split into a grin. "She likes you. I mean... she LIKES you."

Letting her head fall back, she groaned, "Don't even go there. You either, Frankie."

The younger brother held up his hands. "I'm just sittin' here, in this chair, watchin' the Sox blow another one."

"Besides," she returned her attention to Tommy, "she knows I'm only kidding."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. In fact, she's already called me on it."

Tommy frowned. "She's already told you that you make fun of her a lot."

"Yeah she did, Miss Manners. So it's all good."

"I take it back," he said as he reached for more chips. "You're not mean. You're a bitch."

The beer sputtered from her mouth and splashed onto her shirt. "Pardon?" she growled.

He pretended he didn't hear the danger in her voice. "I'm just sayin', you don't see the look on her face sometimes, Jane. I mean, she smiles, but it's not _that_ smile, you know? She's got that great smile-"

"She does have a great smile," Frankie agreed from the safety of his chair.

"I know, right?" Tommy grinned. "But you say shit to her and she puts on that fake smile, like 'It's all good, I'm cool with how small you just made me feel'. Then you turn away and everything goes all sad. She's a tough girl with her work and everything, but you know," he curled his hands as if he was holding something fragile, "she's all soft inside."

"Where the fuck is this coming from?" she asked no one in particular. "We're best friends." She held up a hand when Tommy raised an eyebrow. "We're best friends and I already told you, she knows I'm kidding."

"Or maybe she thinks that's how best friends treat each other," Tommy ventured.

"He's got a point, Jane," Frankie said. Seeing her look, he hurriedly explained, "Come on, you know how she is. You have some idea of what her childhood was like. Way more than what Tommy and I know, anyway. I know she never had a best friend. And who knows? Maybe some people said they were her friends, but I get the feeling they probably only kept her around for her money or her brains. Maybe she thinks that's how it's supposed to be."

As was her nature, her best defense was a good offense. "So suddenly you think you know Maura better than me?"

Frankie raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just sayin' how it looks. When's the last time you did something for her?

She rolled her eyes. "Have I mentioned she's got me doing yoga with her? Did you forget I ran the damn Massachusetts Marathon with her? Between that and dirt baths and fancy restaurants where the wine is worth more than my rent, I think I'm holding up my end of the friendship pretty damn good. Come on!" She threw up her hands at the TV.

"You do those things when she's not around?" Tommy asked.

Her face was a mask of confusion. "Why would I do them when she's not around?"

Tommy shrugged. "She seems to do things when you're not around so she can share it with you when you are. Like the baseball stuff."

"You read that book she was raving about last month?" Frankie asked.

"Oh! That was a good book!" Tommy raved.

Jane snorted. "There's no way you're gonna make me believe you read a book Maura recommended."

"Why, 'cause I'm stupid?" Tommy asked. When he saw that even Frankie's eyebrows were raised, he confessed, "All right, so I saw the movie they made from the book. Still had to read anyway. It was all in another language!" He let them have a chuckle at his expense, then said, "I got the last laugh anyway, 'cause when I told her I saw it, we had coffee for like 3 hours just talking about it. It was awesome!"

"The good news is, I can sit and have coffee with her for three hours and not have to sit through a sub-titled movie or read a 700-page book," Jane replied.

Frankie tilted his chin up. "So what do you talk about?"

"All kinds of things." The two brothers said nothing, so she gave in. "Fine. The Red Sox."

"And..."

"The Patriots."

"And..."

She started to sink into the couch. "The new beer she bought me." She let her brothers' words set in. "Oh my God, I _am_ a bitch."

Frankie snorted. "If I get my phone out to record that, will you say it again?"

She turned and punched Tommy in the arm. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he rubbed the spot. "What did you hit me for?"

"Because I can't reach Frankie from here." She stood and finished her beer.

"You not watching the end of the game?" Frankie asked.

Glancing at the massacre that was befalling her beloved Sox, she shook her head. "I've got something more important I should take care of."

"Remember, she _likes _you," Tommy said with a grin.

"Oh my God," she groaned as she made her way to the kitchen. Dropping her bottle into the recycle bin, she looked around. "Where's Maura?"

Angela was shoulders deep into the fridge, and when she came out, her arms were loaded with vegetables and cheese. "I'm going to make that vegetarian pizza Maura's been raving about," she explained when she saw Jane's look. "Don't tell her I'm using pre-made dough."

"Wouldn't dream of subjecting her to the horror. Speaking of Maura..."

"What? Oh, right, you asked me where she was. Last I saw, she stepped out back for a minute. You kids get so loud with the baseball; I think it gets all a bit much for her, poor thing."

She surprised her mother with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Ma."

...

Sure enough, she was where Angela had said; sitting quietly on the wooden and iron bench at the back of the house. She was leaning back, legs crossed at the knee, and a white cup held carefully on her lap. When the wind blew a strand of hair across her face, she simply closed her eyes and smiled.

_She does have a great smile_, Jane thought. Out loud, she said, "Hey."

Opening her eyes with a start, she turned her head. "Hey."

Three strides brought her to the bench, but still she asked, "Can I sit?"

"May you?" Maura couldn't help but correct. "Yes, of course you may."

Accepting the offer, Jane sat and gazed out into the yard. "I'm surprised it's not manicured within an inch of its life."

Maura tilted her head as she deciphered the comment. "Oh, you mean the yard?"

"Yeah. I see a lot of dandelions."

"Clover and dandelions are a haven for honey bees," she explained. "I think it's a small price to pay to do my part for the ecosystem. And as long as I keep the front manicured within an inch of its life, the Homeowners Society doesn't seem to mind."

"You're not afraid of getting stung?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "Honeybees are vegetarians. They have no interest in humans as long as we leave them alone. Did you know...," she shook her head again.

"Did I know what?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I know sometimes that annoys you. Most times," she said with a hollow laugh, as she stared off into the distance. "In 30 years, you'd think I would have learned by now."

"What do you mean?"

She tried to use a shrug to disguise her discomfort. "I talk too much. Probably from being alone so much as a child. When I was finally surrounded by people my own age, all I wanted to do was share all the things I'd learned in books. I thought it would make me friends, I suppose. I forget not everyone's as interested in... everything."

"Aw, Maura." She took the cup from the woman's hands and carefully placed it on the nearby side table. She shifted close and took Maura's hands into her own. "I'm so stupid."

Frowning, she looked at the detective. "You're not stupid. You're a very intelligent woman and I wish you'd give yourself more credit."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"You are so fucking smart it scares me sometimes." Maura opened her mouth to object, but was stopped with a finger to her lips. "Let me say this." Getting a nod, Jane removed her finger, and trailed it across Maura's chin before returning to her lap. "And because it scares me, I deal with it in traditional Rizzoli style, with bluster and sarcasm. Because if I really took the time to deal with it, I'd have to ask myself what the hell you see in me? And who wants their inadequacies brought to light, huh? So I try to bring you down to my level, because I sure as hell don't have a chance of rising to yours." She looked down at their entwined hands and gave a small laugh. "Problem is, you don't have any inadequacies."

"Oh, Jane, that's not true," Maura protested.

"It is to me." Jane glanced up and looked into hazel eyes. "You're perfect to me."

Neither spoke for several seconds, and Jane began to wonder if she had stepped over the line. _Stupid Tommy and planting that idea in my head. _She needn't have worried.

"You're usually such a woman of action, Jane. I think your personal crest should say 'facta non verba'- deeds, not words." They both smiled. "But those words were lovely." She looked off to the side for a moment, as if coming to a private conclusion. Gazing back to Jane, she said, "Perhaps I need to take a page from your book, as you'd say. Maybe I need to work on more deeds and less words."

"No, no," Jane disagreed. "Don't think you need to change for me. I told you, you're-"

The words were halted when Maura's lips pressed against hers. Soft, inquisitive and confident, just like the woman herself. Action. That was something Jane understood. Burying her hands in thick blonde hair, she deepened the kiss. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt fingers play under the hem of her Red Sox jersey.

"Perfect," she whispered against parted lips.

"Girls, the pizza's ready!" Angela bellowed from the kitchen. "Get in here before your brothers do. You know they're animals!"

Jane sighed into the soft hair at Maura's temple. "We'd better listen to her, or _she'll_ take action, and that usually involves getting dragged inside by our ears."

"Ow!" Maura laughed at the thought. "Well, since you put it that way, I suppose it would be in our best interest to go inside."

Standing first, she offered her hand to Maura, and surprised them both by not letting go as they made the short trip to the door. As she reached out to the turn the handle, Jane stopped and looked at the shorter woman.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"When?"

"When we were talking about lawns and honeybees."

Maura replayed the conversation in her head. "Oh that," she said, recalling the comment. "It's not important."

"It is to me."

With a small shake of her head, Maura smiled that smile. "The honeybee's distinctive buzzing is due to the fact that its wings beat 200 times a second, and it can fly up to 6 miles, reaching a top speed of 15 miles per hour." She gave an almost embarrassed shrug.

"That's good to know," Jane said. "I'll tell Frankie all he needs to do is outrun a bee for 6 miles." When she saw the slight look of confusion, she explained, "Frankie's terrified of them." She waited for more, and when none came, she said, "Okay?" Maura nodded. "Okay, let's go in and see how bad the Sox did."

"I'm sure Chris Berman will have something interesting to say."

Maura's fight against the smirk that twitched the corner of her mouth was a lost cause. Jane stopped in the doorway. "Did you just make a joke about my Red Sox?"

"No! I... you know, I think the best course of action would be to go inside now."

Jane chuckled at Maura's quick escape. Before closing the door behind her, she looked at the bench and thought of the words and actions that somehow shifted everything between them in the quietest way. Knowing the woman who had just entered the house, there would be more words later, but if Jane had anything to say about it, there would be a lot more action, too.

...


End file.
